


Sehnsucht.

by hemisphaeric



Series: "Yo te propuse fundir oro juntos." [2]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Unrequited Love, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemisphaeric/pseuds/hemisphaeric
Summary: ‘You know exactly why. Because she is not you.’ he could feel the painful stab of long-hidden truths surfacing to his conscious mind as he listened to Andrés sing. He downed the third glass of strong red wine.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín
Series: "Yo te propuse fundir oro juntos." [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693684
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	Sehnsucht.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, listen, I may still not know _exactly_ where I'm going with this but there are many stories I want to tell about these characters, all connected to one another, so yeah here is the second part of the series.

He knew the moment would have come, somehow his subconscious had been preparing for years to the incredible rupture. But who could have imagined the magnitude of it all, who could have thought that one single person could feel so much. 

_‘How come I’m still alive, if a big part of me has been taken away?’_

Martín screamed and cried, holding on tight to the many pages and papers that lay everywhere in the room. _‘Our plan’_ meticulously written down during thousands of days spent together, just the two of them. 

_‘Andrés.’_

He was everywhere, in the voluptuous handwriting Martín was resting his cheek on, in that damned painting that hung just behind his head. He was in the small things that were surrounding him, a pen, a scarf, small objects Andrés had scattered all around in the common spaces they had shared. There were very few things around there that Martín could call his own, he had always only referred to those as theirs. Their record player, their plan, their ideas. Almost as if they had completely merged, two minds in one, to create power and genius. But most painfully of all, Martín could still sense Andrés’ lips, their inebriating taste. 

He screamed, emptied his lungs in an attempt to alleviate his heart from the inconceivable torment he had suffered. He crumpled and shredded the pages around him, his equations and Andrés’ drawings, their joint calligraphies. 

“Fuck this. Fuck everything!” he cursed himself, his life and everything around him, he cursed the monks and wondered if they could hear him shouting his emptiness to the night sky. _‘Fuck them all. They can listen to me, I don’t give a fuck! Those stupid people would never understand what I feel!’_

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Andrés, no, not even in the prelude to his darkest days and weeks. His love was still so strong, it could have burnt him alive, suffocated him with its astonishing strength.

_‘Él es imprescindible para mí.’_

Later in the night, drunk and delirious, he was unable to bring himself to pack his stuff just yet, so he abandoned himself wholly to the pain, acknowledging and almost welcoming the stinging, unfamiliar sense of solitude. 

**Nine days before.**

“How do I look?” Martín looked up from his work to meet eyes with the man in front of him, a tender smile curving his lips as he stared at the warm beige suit and creamy coloured shirt. It wasn’t Andrés’ usual sharp, dark look, the suit didn’t make him look powerful or dominant, just soft and familiar. But naturally Martín could’ve never told him so. 

“Majestic. Awesome, like a victorious general in a romantic painting.” - then suddenly he turned his eyes back down, trying to hide his burning bitterness - “Tatiana is going to be absolutely ecstatic.” 

Another woman, another wedding, Martín had been there for every single one. All four of them. One would think that after a while one could get used to it, take it stoically, getting a little drunk and appreciating the party. Oh but it didn’t, every single time the pain grew and grew until it started nibbling at his insides, threatening to throw away his secret to the wind. Martín grew tired of assisting to these hollow ceremonies but he couldn’t excuse his absence in any way so he just made sure to be pleasantly tipsy before the wedding even started.

“Martín, come on, what’s bothering you my friend?”  
Martín stood up, his feelings composed and under control, showing once again his warm, private smile and taking the elegant western bowtie from Andrés’ hands. “Nothing, really. Is this new?” He started knotting it for his friend, in a ritual they had consolidated during all the years together, his experienced hands working quickly at Andrés’ collar, feeling the untamed warmth of his pulse under his fingertips.

“Actually, yes. Each wedding a different kind of tie, to keep things varied and distinctive. Today marks a new beginning, my dear friend, but also some kind of closure. I think it will be my last.”

“Oh really? Tatiana is the one?” The shadow that crossed Andrés’ eyes for a brief quarter of second was eloquent enough, it told something about this whole wedding and Martín was curious, he knew the other man well enough to be able to decipher his expressions but this was one of the rare kind, the ones Andrés seldom let others see. 

He had always been composed, closed down even, in regard to feelings and Martín had gotten used to pick up the bits and pieces that were scattered around him. The smiles as he surprised Andrés with something clever and new, or simply the thankful look in his eyes as once again Martín pulled out a bottle of good wine to alleviate the pain of long nights spent working until soft, red sun rays shone on their notes through the stained glass windows. Words weren’t necessary at all to understand each other. 

“You should get dressed too, now” the brief moment of tension was interrupted by Andrés’ words, soft but direct. “The others will be waiting and, well I can’t leave my soon-to-be wife down there alone, right?” 

“Naturally, yes, you go. I must make myself at least half presentable for the big occasion.”

With a smile and a quick nuzzle of Martín’s cheek, Andrés was gone and once again he was left on his own to yearn and wish for more, a big sigh breathing out of his lips as he relished in the feeling of warmth Andrés’ hand had left on his cheek.

\--------------------

She was beautiful, he had to admit it. And she was also smart, of the bunch of wives Andrés had collected in his life, Tatiana was by far the most interesting one. For instance, she shared Andrés’ passion for crime, they had spent months travelling around Europe, stealing diamonds and precious antiquities. Still, Martín couldn’t bring himself to like her fully, there was a sort of ambiguity in her eyes, almost an emotional emptiness when he stared at her and Andrés interact, although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what gave it away. 

_‘You know exactly why. Because she is not you.’_ he could feel the painful stab of long-hidden truths surfacing to his conscious mind as he listened to Andrés singing ‘Ti Amo’. He downed the third glass of strong red wine.

Truth is, she didn’t deserve him, not even one bit. She didn’t even know him, nobody knew Andrés as well as Martín did, and yet he was always the one being left behind, always a step back. He was the one in charge of picking up the pieces and helping his friend through each heartbreak, still fully aware that the pretend-heartaches and pain did last barely enough to find a new loved-one. 

_‘That’s what you get for falling in love with your best friend, amigo.’_

He thanked his psyche once again, for making fun of him and always pointing out distressing truths at the most inappropriate times. 

Realising Sergio was staring at him, he shrugged it off quickly, put on a nice smile and proceeded to dance, drink and forget for the rest of the evening. 

\--------------------

“Martín? Come on the party isn’t over yet!” 

Martín opened his eyes slowly, Andrés’ figure towering over him, a bottle of wine and a record in his hands. 

“What the hell?” he sat up on the cushioned settee he had thrown himself on, covering his eyes with his silky scarf. “Where is Tatiana?” His head was throbbing, once again the wine had done its magic. But he definitely needed more.

“In our room, dressing up for dinner I guess.” He heard Andrés fumbling with the record player on his left. 

Anticipating his friend’s question, Martín murmured: “You have to position the head manually, the automatic mechanism stopped working. What time is it?” 

“Who cares? Dance with me, Martín”

“Don’t you need to be with Tatiana?” But Martín couldn’t help it, he was already standing up, the call from his charmer impossible to ignore, suddenly more sober than he had ever been. Not that this whole scenario was new to them, they had spent many intimate moments just like that, dancing it out. And in those moment Martín could almost bear with Andrés taste for melodic Italian music, if it meant slow dancing with him to it. 

“She’ll be here when she’s ready. But stop talking about her or I’ll start thinking you’re in love with her!” Andrés laughed as he lead them around the room and Martín smiled back.

“I’m pretty sure I’m still not into women. Although she is quite the delightful kind.” 

_‘It would be easier to explain that I’m in love with her, instead of having to tell you about how I fell for you.’_

But this time he didn’t let his subconscious’ messages come through completely, choosing to ignore those little fuckers hinting at how his love was somehow less valid than a woman’s. 

“Thanks for being there with me today, Martín. It’s always good to have you around. I can always count on my best friend to finish all my wine and sing at my wedding.” 

“It was quite the party today, five’s the charm, I guess.” 

When the song ended, Andrés put his hands gently on Martín’s shoulders and smiled once more and there he saw it again, that look that had intrigued him that morning. That soft, melancholic and oh so vulnerable smile which Martín hadn’t had the courage to investigate further. 

But just like that morning, the moment was interrupted as Tatiana walked in in her berry blue long dress. 

“Ah! Here she comes, my beautiful lady! We shall go now, señora de Fonollosa because the surprises aren’t over yet. Martín my friend, have a goodnight, we’ll see each other in the morning.” he looked at Tatiana

“Of course, have a good night you both.” 

Martín took the bottle of wine Andrés had brought and started sipping directly from it, as he changed the record on the player. 

As he danced and sung to David Bowie, he realised that maybe after all he could keep on living like this, dragging himself from these tiny moments he shared privately with Andrés, avidly storing them in his memory to go back to in moments of solitude. 

Or maybe he could be the one to make the first move. Or just keep on trying to fool himself into believing.

\--------------------

\--------------------

He returned to Palermo alone, his flat was there waiting for him, empty and dreary, just a couple things left there as Martín had abandoned it to follow Andrés to the beautiful Florence.  
Still, when drunk on cheap wine and high on whatever drug he could find, he could completely forget about it, because obviously nothing could compare to what he had in Florence.  
Truth is, you only really care about certain things when you have the privilege of sharing those with a good friend.  
But Martín didn’t give a fuck now, he just needed the booze to completely annihilate the feeling of void in his chest. 

It was pity towards himself and a urge to fuck that finally pushed him out of the flat one night. He wasn’t expecting to find solace in any way outside better than he had inside, but still he could try. Not that he deserved happiness, no, he didn’t believe so yet he could hang on to the bits and pieces that were left, counterfeiting his present to trick his brain into believing in some sort of normality.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :)


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